Before the Dawn (Truly Yours Digital Editions) (14 page)

Stop it. You tried to hold Karen at arm’s length, but it didn’t work, did it? She’s in your heart, and you need her. Not having Karen in your life would be worse than being blind. You should be doing everything in your power to make her happy. You heard it in her voice when you did something as simple as eating dinner with her tonight.

One successful dinner didn’t mean he was ready to conquer the world, but perhaps it wasn’t too early to begin planning a trip to Kansas City in the spring. He wouldn’t tell Karen right away, but when Rex came back after the first of the year, David would take him up on his offer to learn to navigate the streets of Denver by himself.

THIRTEEN

Karen looked up from her correspondence when Buckford entered the room. “Ah, thank you for the interruption. I think my writing hand is about to fall off. I could use a cup of tea.”

“A telegram arrived for you, ma’am.” He held out an envelope. “I’ll see to your tea right away.”

“Thank you. Would you see if David would like some tea or coffee? I think he’s still upstairs reading.”

Buckford nodded and left.

Karen leaned back in her chair and rubbed her wrist. She’d long grown weary of sending out her regrets for one party after another. She hadn’t known the Mackenzies knew so many people in Denver, nor that their friends were so social. Each invitation to a ball, soiree, or fete must be answered, and the deluge of envelopes for tonight’s New Year’s Eve festivities had taken most of the morning to respond to. A yawn tugged at her jaw, and she turned her attention to the telegram.

Mrs. David Mackenzie

Regret to inform you Miss H. Worth passed away last evening, Dec. 30. Funeral scheduled Jan. 4. Church sends condolences and lawyer awaits instructions.

Rev. S. Hamilton.

Karen read the words, each one slicing like jagged glass. Tears blurred the type, and the paper fell from her nerveless fingers. A deep trembling started in her middle and radiated outward, chilling as it went. A fist of pain lodged in her throat.

Sobbing reached her ears, a mournful cry torn from an anguished soul. She tried to shut it out until she realized it came from her. Loss crept around her like a black mist, and the room began to whirl.

Buckford rattled the teacups when he plonked the tray down and hurried to her side.

Karen put out her hand to grip the edge of the desk.

“Ma’am? Are you all right? Should I call someone?” In an unprecedented move, he took her arm. “Perhaps you’ll feel better if you lie on the couch.” He didn’t wait for her assent but helped her to her feet and put his arm around her waist, assisting her to the settee.

A small, detached part of her mind reasoned that she must look very shocked and shaky indeed for Buckford to break protocol like this. She lay back against the cushions and stared at the ceiling.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, wetting her temples and trailing into her ears, but she didn’t care. Aunt Hattie was dead. Her heart throbbed as if a giant heel had ground on it. She would never see her beloved aunt again on this earth.

“Lie still. I’ll get some help.” Buckford patted her shoulder then disappeared into the foyer.

Karen couldn’t have moved if she wanted to. Boulders of grief tumbled over her, swallowing her in an avalanche.

Footsteps clattered on the stairs, and David knelt beside her. “What is it, Karen? Are you ill?” He felt over her arms and legs. Then his fingers touched her tear-soaked face. “Are you hurt?”

His caress burned her skin. Anger such as she’d never felt before welled up inside her, and energy returned like a lightning flash. She shoved his hands away. “Don’t touch me.” Grabbing the back of the settee, she struggled upright, banging into David in the process.

He rocked and tumbled onto his backside. “Karen, what’s the matter with you?” He leaned back on his palms, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.

She got up and brushed past him toward the desk. The telegram lay on the floor by the chair, and when she reached down for it, the blood rushed to her head, renewing her dizziness. She snatched up the paper and crumpled it to her chest. Her control cracked, and she spewed out hurt-laden words. “My aunt passed away last night, and thanks to you and your colossal selfishness, I wasn’t there.” A spike-laden sob clawed its way out of her throat, choking her.

David clambered to his feet and approached her with his hand outstretched.

She shrank from him, pushing into the corner. If he touched her, she would be sick. “Stay away from me.”

His hand dropped to his side. “Karen, I’m so sorry about your aunt.”

She shook her head. Tears dripped from her chin onto the telegram. “No, you’re not. You didn’t even know her. You didn’t want to visit her. She was the only person I had who really loved me. And now she’s gone.”

“That’s not true. Karen, I love you. Let me help you through this.” He reached for her again, but she evaded his grasp.

“You don’t love me. I thought you did once, but I was wrong. If you loved me, you would’ve married me without being coerced. You would’ve let me help you, and you would’ve treated me like your bride. I’m a secretary not a wife, taking care of household accounts, overseeing the help, writing your correspondence. No matter what I do, you still aren’t ready to love me more than you love yourself. You keep me at a distance. You never share your thoughts and feelings unless you’re angry or bitter, and then you deny me the chance to see Aunt Hattie one last time. Does that sound like love to you?” She choked on a sob and pressed her knuckles to her mouth, not wanting to look at him anymore. She only wanted to get out of the room, to find somewhere she could breathe and think and grieve. Knocking his outstretched hand away, Karen hurried to escape.

“Where are you going?”

She paused at the doorway. “I’m going to pack. I have a funeral to attend.” She brushed past Buckford at the bottom of the stairs. “And don’t even think about offering to come with me. It’s too late for that.”

❧

Her door slammed at the top of the stairs as effectively as she’d slammed the door on his efforts to comfort her.

David groped for the edge of the settee and sank onto it. He put his face into his hands, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but only one thing stood out in his mind.

She was leaving him.

Packing her bags and boarding a train.

The truth hit like a blow from an ax handle. Though he had tried to prepare himself for it from the moment he married her, the reality halved his heart. He had let his guard down, had actually started imagining she might stay with him, that together they could find happiness in spite of his infirmity. What if he had gone with her to her aunt’s? Would she have come back to him if he had sent her alone?

She thinks I don’t love her.

Shoving his fingers into his hair, he squeezed his hands into fists. Her accusations zipped through his head, and he was guilty of every one of them. He
had
held her away from him and kept his most intimate and personal thoughts to himself. Because he had been afraid and ashamed, he had refused to accompany her on a family visit. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love her.

He had been trying for days now to think of a way to swallow his pride and tell her he wanted to be a real husband to her, to share their lives together the way they had planned when he first asked her to marry him. He’d even had Buckford send a note to Rex about learning to get around outside the house starting as soon as the winter break ended in order to be ready to take Karen on a trip in the spring.

But it was too late now. She was leaving him. She didn’t want him to go with her, and he had no right to ask her to stay.

He pushed himself up from the settee and shuffled across the room to the doorway. “Buckford?”

David jumped when a voice came from quite close by. “Yes?”

“My wife”—the words jabbed—“is going on a trip. I would appreciate it if you would go to the depot and procure her ticket in a private compartment with a sleeper. Spare no expense. I want the best you can get. Then go find a shop and procure a traveling blanket and pillow and some reading matter. Anything you can think of to make the trip easier.” He swallowed against the ache growing in his middle. “When you get back, be ready to take her to the station.”

“Very good, sir.” Buckford’s voice held not a note of censure. “One ticket?”

“One ticket, Buckford. There’s money in the cash box upstairs.” He hadn’t been in the office since they’d moved into the town house. He’d shut the door on that part of his life. After handing Buckford the key to the cash box, David resumed his seat in the study, helpless to do anything else.

What seemed like hours later, Buckford returned to the town house. The smell of smoke and sunshine lingered on his clothes. “Sir, I’ve been to the depot.” He pressed a pasteboard rectangle into David’s hand. “Here is the ticket. I did as you asked and reserved a private compartment in a Pullman car. The train leaves in two hours.” He paused. “There is still room on the train if you should choose to accompany her. I can pack for you very quickly.”

David shook his head. “No, she has enough details to see to without having to look out for me, too. Though I’d like to be there to support her during the funeral, she’ll have an easier time without me.” Just as he’d thought. Life would be easier for her without his clogging things up and needing to be looked after. “Check with her to see if she needs any telegrams sent ahead to anyone and be sure to cable the depot in Kansas City and have a carriage waiting for her and someone to handle the baggage.”

“Very well.”

Before Buckford could leave, David rose and touched his arm. “Thank you, Buckford, for taking care of all these details I can’t do myself.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

A giant fist crushed David’s chest. Mackenzie history was repeating itself, and he was helpless to stop it.

He accompanied her to the depot. She didn’t speak to him on the journey, and she didn’t cry.

He recalled the last time he had seen Karen before the accident, the last time he’d put her on a train. Bags at her feet, checking her pocketbook for her ticket, torn with excitement at seeing her aunt again, worried about Hattie’s ill health, and saddened to be parted from him, even for a little while. She had chattered all the way to the train that day. He hadn’t been conflicted in the least. He had known without a doubt he would miss her every day they were apart, and his world wouldn’t be right until she returned. With no regard for the fact that they were standing on the platform at the depot with anyone and everyone looking on, he had swept her into his arms and kissed her. His embrace had knocked her hat askew, but she hadn’t seemed to mind, returning his kiss with passion. He had looked into her beautiful blue eyes and brushed her lips with his once more before putting her on the train.

This time, he might’ve been a stranger to her. She took the ticket he presented her while Buckford instructed a porter to label her trunk and wheel it to the baggage car.

David stood helplessly by, listening to the sounds the train made, hissing and clicking in preparation for its trip across the plains. “You’ve got money for your meals and anything you might need?”

“Yes, David.”

“You’ll cable when you arrive?”

“Yes.”

“If you need more money, the First Union Bank in Kansas City will honor your personal check. Or I can wire you funds.”

“Yes.”

The train whistle shattered the air, startling him. Someone—the conductor?—shouted, “All aboard!”

All he wanted to say jammed in his throat. He settled for touching her arm, her shoulder, then her face before lowering his lips to her cool cheek. “Good-bye, Karen.”

She moved away, and Buckford guided him back from the train. With a growl, tons of metal began to move. Steamy mist drifted across his skin and the smell of cinders and ash filled the air.

FOURTEEN

January 4, 1884

Dear Karen,

Buckford is writing this for me, as my own handwriting is still deplorable, and in any case, I don’t like using the metal frame to write for myself.

Thank you for sending the wire confirming your safe arrival. Buckford tells me the funeral is today, and I hope you will accept my condolences.

Things are much the same here. Rex is coming to resume our lessons on Monday.

I am sure you are busy settling your aunt’s estate, so I won’t take any more of your time. It’s awkward dictating to Buckford. I never realized before how easy it was to speak my mind when it was you taking down my correspondence. I guess we never realize what we have until it is gone.

Do you know when you will be coming home?

Sincerely,

David

Karen spread the page out on her black skirt and read the scant lines for the tenth time. How different from the love letters he had mailed to her the last time she stayed in this house. Though with all that had happened to them and between them, it wasn’t surprising.

We never realize what we have until it is gone.